


blood moon

by accio0greatness



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blood moon, College, M/M, biting kink, future!fic, worrywart Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-09 10:36:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1979637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accio0greatness/pseuds/accio0greatness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Established Relationship Future!AU where Stiles is in college and Derek also decides to go back to school and yeah I dunno they have a Really Fucking Nice Loft and stuff and Derek also wears his glasses more and starts taking Russian Lit classes and just being the Worst and Hottest version of himself possible. Also blood moon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	blood moon

Derek is a mess leading up to the Blood Moon.

He drags Stiles away from his classwork with frantic eyes, ignoring squawks of protest. Going over detailed charts they drafted together (rather, that Derek traced while Stiles made occasional voice starts to take that old edge.

The one that sounds a little like i-hate-myself and a lot like everything-i-love-is-everything-i-ruin.

Stiles doesn’t let that slide.

When Derek is spread out on the floor in front of the couch, surrounded by hi-liters and pens and books that smell old and damp, Stiles drags him to sit between his spread legs. If he rubs the right spot beneath Derek’s left shoulderblade, Derek will shift seamlessly, arching up into Stiles’ long fingers.

He’ll turn to nip at the heel of his hand with his fangs, let his eyes flutter shut as thumbs trace his heavy brow. Stiles lets his hands say what he can’t verbalize. Lets them say i trust you; you should sleep more; you’re precious to me.

As nights count down, Derek worries more. Ditches Tolstoyan Theology 455 in order to drive up to the mountains, where he shifts fully, running until his paws ache.

But as it turned out, the Blood Moon doesn’t make Derek more violent, or more aggressive - not even close.

*

“Stiles, please.”

He’d been insatiable since Stiles walked in the door - Stiles found him in their bedroom, an old tee shirt (a shrunken, hole-riddled relic of his high school days) balled in his fist. Derek was uncharacteristically loud, whining in his throat as he stroked himself.

And so yeah, Stiles had loosened the tie he wore to his final presentation on the Evolution of Druid Mythology in Scandinavian Europe, and let Derek fuck into his throat. 

And yeah, he’d had his one pair of dress pants clawed open, but if it meant he had an especially heavy-browed face between his thighs, claws audibly snagging against the carpet, who gave a fuck?

“What does it feel like?” Stiles asked, shoving blueberries into his swollen mouth. Having opened the blinds fully, the deep crimson of the full moon was more eerie and entrancing as he’d thought it would be.

“Like everything around me is sharp,” Derek’s voice was muffled; he’d locked himself in the bathroom so Stiles could eat. The previous attempts they’d made to eat together had just resulted in a sticky mess on the counter next to the fridge, some nearly-too-deep bites on the back of Stiles’ neck, and the shredding of some once very beloved sweatpants.

Stiles had come so hard he blacked out, Derek’s throat rippling as his nose pressed into the dark thatch of hair beneath Stiles’ navel.

“It’s like when you jump off the diving board - that second when you’re suspended in the air.”

Stiles licked cantaloupe juice from his wrist, deciding fruit was a two-for-one blessing: what else could be both hydrating and filling?

“That sounds kinda scary.”

“It is,” Derek’s voice was soft. “But you’re the water below.”

*

Derek was quiet while Stiles washed out his bowl, then arranged himself on their bed, face-down. Stiles was just as vocal as ever, hissing as he pressed slick fingers into the tightness Derek had only eased his tongue into, unable to calm enough to retract his claws.

“Come on out, Big Bad,” Stiles was too breathy to sound coy, fingers clumsy at this angle, skittering across his prostate, wringing high yips from his bruised throat.

Derek unlocked the bathroom door and was plastered against Stiles’ back immediately, setting his canines against purple marks on Stiles’ long neck.

“Can I just -” Hot hands spanned the small of Stiles’ back as Derek trailed off, licking the taut skin behind the jut of Stiles’ jaw.

“Yeah, yeah,” Spitting into his palm, Derek bracketed Stiles’ thighs with his own. After slicking his cock, wet sound of foreskin sliding over the head, Derek raised up, letting Stiles slick the tight skin behind his balls with his own saliva before tucking the head of Derek’s dick between his thighs.

Squeezing his legs together, Stiles rested on his elbows as Derek ploughed into the tight space where the hair was coarse, and dark - skin unmarked. Splotches of color heating his cheeks, his shoulder burned where stubble scraped against it, his cock leaked where it was trapped beneath his belly. Stiles rocked his hips back to counter each of Derek’s powerful thrusts.

“Derek, I need more.”


End file.
